


Communion

by queerofhearts



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM Scene, Blasphemous References to the Eucharist, Dirty Talk, Dom Crowley (Good Omens), Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Previously Negotiated Scene, Sub Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofhearts/pseuds/queerofhearts
Summary: It was a strange and twisted communion, the angel on his knees, in supplication for the body and command of a demon.~Crowley tries out a few things to see just how obedient his little angel will be. Inspired by @Usedtobehmc's art.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 115





	Communion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Usedtobehmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usedtobehmc/gifts).



~

Crowley could feel Aziraphale practically vibrating in the seat beside him. His lips curled in a smirk, barely restrained from an outright giddy grin.

All night he’d been teasing, putting a firm hand at the small of Aziraphale’s back to guide him through the crowded restaurant, rubbing his foot against Aziraphale’s under the table, taking great care to tongue clean his spoon after a few bites of pudding. Now that they were in the car driving home, his hand rested high on Aziraphale’s thigh, and he’d been rubbing little circles with the tips of his fingers against the inseam of Aziraphale’s trousers.

Aziraphale was taking slow breaths, one hand on the door handle, looking pointedly out the windshield and not anywhere near Crowley.

Yeah. This was going to be good.

As soon as the car stopped, Aziraphale was out of his seat and slamming the door, pulling keys out of his pocket. Crowley took his time in contrast, unfolded from the car slowly and leaned back inside under the ruse of searching for his sunglasses. By the time he’d locked up the Bentley, Aziraphale had vanished inside the bookshop.

Crowley approached slowly, almost circling, a predator hunting for his prey. Aziraphale hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights and was currently dropping a trail of clothes in his wake, breadcrumbs leading to the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Crowley called quickly. If Aziraphale went upstairs, that meant the game was over.

Aziraphale, left in his undershirt with trousers undone, paused on the stairs. “The bedroom,” he replied, a question in his voice.

By replying, he had willingly engaged the trap, and it was up to Crowley to pull tight the string. “I thought we’d have a nightcap. You know there wasn’t anything decent at the restaurant.”

This was a very obvious lie—they’d had excellent Scotch, good enough even for Aziraphale’s taste. But Crowley could see in Aziraphale’s eyes how he was calculating, deciding whether to play along. They’d talked about and done things like this before, though it hadn’t ever left their bedroom. Aziraphale was clever, he could understand what was being offered and make his choice to bet or fold.

He turned and walked back down the stairs.

“Brilliant,” Crowley oozed, pleasure obvious in his voice as he joined Aziraphale in the back room.

He sat on the couch and shrugged off his jacket, kicking his shoes into the corner. Aziraphale get the hint and went to fetch the drinks. Crowley took advantage of the moment alone to force a few calming breaths. He could control himself. He could give Aziraphale what he wanted—what they _both_ wanted.

“Thanks, angel.” He took the proffered glass, clinking theirs together in cheers. Aziraphale turned to his chair and was about to sit when Crowley spoke up again.

“I interrupted you in the middle of something, I think.” He took a slow sip and gestured to the waistcoat and shirt on the floor. “Why don’t you finish up?”

“I—” Aziraphale looked confused for a moment, but Crowley held his gaze, steady. He was the one in charge, but he had to make sure Aziraphale also knew it. That it was deliberate, that he knew what he was doing.

“Might be more comfortable,” Crowley prompted, just to be sure.

After a moment, Aziraphale mumbled, “All right,” and dropped his hands to the waist of his trousers.

Crowley sipped his whiskey and watched as Aziraphale got completely naked. He once glanced over at the window, but Crowley had made sure the shades were drawn. Though it was quite warm, Aziraphale shivered a bit, and his cock was flushed and thick against his belly. Once he was finished, he looked at Crowley for guidance. _Good boy_.

“Lovely, angel.” He smiled, relaxing further back into the sofa and unbuttoning his own shirt. “Why don’t you come over here and be closer?” Casually spreading his legs, he nodded toward the patch of carpet right in front of him.

This time, Aziraphale didn’t hesitate. He came forward to kneel on the floor immediately. Crowley leaned down to reward him with a palm to his cheek, thumbing over the giving curve of his lips. When he took his hand away, Aziraphale followed, leaning into the contact until he would lose his balance otherwise.

Yes. This would be _excellent_.

“You’re pretty as a picture, you know that, yeah?” Crowley undid one more button, seeing Aziraphale’s eyes on his hands. He opened his legs even further and palmed his inner thigh, drawing Aziraphale’s eye to the prominent bulge in his groin. “I could just look at you. For ages and ages…”

Aziraphale ground the heels of his palms into his thighs and took a slow breath. Christ on a bicycle, it was fucking hard for Crowley not to yank him up into his lap and have his way with him. He took another long sip to steady himself, thinking, considering his options.

“Stick out your tongue,” he said, a firm, quiet command.

Aziraphale slid his tongue out, the corners of his lips quirking up, as though teasing. Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Not like that,” he corrected, gentle guiding to get what he wanted.

Understanding dawned on Aziraphale’s face, followed quickly by a blush that spread from his cheeks down his chest—it made him look younger. Then he relaxed his lips and his jaw, his eyes falling shut as his mouth dropped open and his tongue slid further out.

“Ooh, _angel_ ,” Crowley moaned, unable to help rubbing himself, just a few quick strokes through his trousers as he squirmed then got himself under control. Aziraphale was _obscene_ , the spectacle of someone just _begging_ in thirst. “You’re killing me, so _fucking_ gorgeous.” Aziraphale moaned, the sound breathy from his open mouth. “I want to taste you so badly.”

Thinking of taste gave him an idea. He dipped his thumb into the whiskey and leaned forward. Delicately, he put the pad of his thumb in the middle of Aziraphale’s tongue, a small drop of liquid spreading through the texture of taste buds.

Immediately Aziraphale closed his mouth and began to suck. “ _No_ ,” Crowley said firmly, pulling his hand away. Aziraphale opened his eyes, off-balance for a moment, and Crowley caught his gaze again. “Don’t suck. Just leave your mouth open.”

Aziraphale blinked once and then complied, offering his tongue once again. Crowley made him wait for a minute, then put his thumb back slowly.

For several moments, neither of them moved. It was a strange and twisted communion, the angel on his knees, in supplication for the body and command of a demon. Aziraphale held his gaze and remained perfectly still, even as his cock started leaking a steady trail. Crowley could see saliva pooling in his mouth.

“ _Perfect_ , angel, absolutely stunning,” he effused, beginning to pet gently with just the pad of his thumb. Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered but he remained perfectly still. “You’re so good for me, hm? You’d do anything I say. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied, but he didn’t dislodge Crowley’s finger pressing down, so it came out like “yeh.” The sound of his voice, slurred like drunkenness, moved something in Crowley that he couldn’t even name. He was so out of control, so surrendered to Crowley, he couldn’t even speak clearly. It was too much too bear.

“Close your eyes for me,” he urged, waiting until Aziraphale’s eyes were shut until he opened his trousers, just enough to get his cock out. His hands were shaking, he was so keyed up. He quickly moved forward, perched on the very edge of the couch with his knees over Aziraphale’s shoulders.

He slid a hand into Aziraphale’s hair, gripped a fistful of it, and tilted his hips, until the tip of his aching cock met the warm, wet muscle of Aziraphale’s tongue. As once, they groaned aloud, and Crowley had to hold his breath to savor it, not let it end too soon.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, though his voice was breathy and wanton, sliding his hips forward and pulling Aziraphale’s head toward him, lazily fucking the loose hole of his mouth. “Fuck, yes, you perfect thing, let me use you, you love it, you’d beg me for it if I let you.” Aziraphale did nothing, kept his eyes shut and neck limp as Crowley made a mess of him, drool dripping down the corners of his lips and _Jesus fucking Christ,_ Crowley had to keep talking or he was going to finish too soon. “That’s it, angel, nice and easy now, you don’t have to suck, just have to do what I tell you, so beautiful, let me hear you, angel, I want to hear your voice—” and Aziraphale was moaning, high and lilting, his chin wet from his own spit and Crowley’s precum, and fuck _fuck_ it wasn’t going to last anyway— “Look at me now, Aziraphale, angel, _look at me_.”

Aziraphale opened his eyes and his pupils were so black there was barely any blue and that was it, Crowley was coming, he spilled into Aziraphale’s mouth and in his thrusting, he came all across Aziraphale’s red face. Aziraphale still didn’t move, his head heavy in Crowley’s hand as they both gasped for breath, Crowley trembling in the aftershocks.

It remained that way for one moment, then the mess was gone and Crowley was finally ( _finally_ ) pulling Aziraphale up onto his lap.

“You did perfect, angel, Christ alive, you were _perfect_ ,” Crowley murmured, wrapping him up tight and showering him with kisses. Aziraphale squirmed and groaned, a hand shooting between his own legs but Crowley beat him to it. Aziraphale cried out as Crowley stroked him, holding him tightly and kissing him as sweetly as he could. “How do you want it, sweetheart? You can have anything you want, you did _so well_ , Aziraphale, you’re _perfect_.”

“Please, just touch me, Crowley, just like this,” he begged, and Crowley nodded, hand slick with precum and pumping fast, the way Aziraphale liked it. He was kissing the taste of semen from Aziraphale’s mouth as he came over Crowley’s stomach and hand.

Afterward, they remained on the sofa, not moving except when Crowley pulled a blanket over Aziraphale’s naked form. His head was resting on the bony point of Crowley’s shoulder, his breaths a caress on Crowley’s neck and collarbone.

“That… was excellent,” Aziraphale said at last, sitting up a bit and stretching as the blanket pooled to his waist. He smiled down at Crowley, looking the very picture of debauched, and Crowley was struck with sudden timidity.

“You mean it? It wasn’t too much?” He hadn’t done anything far outside what they discussed previously, but for the first time, he wanted to be sure.

“Of course, my dear.” Aziraphale in his nudity was just as prim as Aziraphale buttoned up, and it was somehow reassuring to Crowley. It reminded him he hadn’t crossed a line or ruined things. “You have such a delightful mouth, it was a real pleasure to hear you talk like that.”

Crowley’s grin was especially serpentine. “Glad to be of service, angel.” Aziraphale kissed him once more, then drew a firm line down the middle of Crowley’s bare chest.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes and have another go upstairs, hm?”

Crowley’s enthusiasm couldn’t be limited to words.

~

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Usedtobehmc for the lovely, sexy art that inspired me to write my first porn!


End file.
